


finding shelter

by BigCityWitch



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Gen, mentioned rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-07 06:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11052999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigCityWitch/pseuds/BigCityWitch
Summary: The last time she had been in London, she had stayed at a hotel with her family. But that wasn't an option now. All she had was a soaked dress and shoes that tortured her feet. Looking back at it now, it would have been a good idea to plan this a little bit more thorough. But there was no way back now.So when she saw the shop of an undertaker an idea came to her mind.  She tried the door and was quite surprised to find it unlocked. That had been even easier than she had hoped for.A look around in the dim room revealed a lot of coffins,  anatomy dolls and other stuff that gave the place a rather spooky atmosphere. As exhausted as she was even the coffins seemed like a nice bed to her. So she aimed for the nearest one while yawning and removed the lid only to find someone already in there. It was a tall pale guy with beautiful long grey hair and a scar across his face...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Patient of Eternity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4053238) by [blacklikethecolourof](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacklikethecolourof/pseuds/blacklikethecolourof). 



> This is my first work, so please feel free to critize the hell out of it! I really want to get better ;) Since English isn't my native language I may have made a lot of mistakes... Sorry in advance for that

She wandered lost through the grey streets of London, the damp cold creeping deep inside her bones. The last time she had been here, she had stayed at a hotel with her family. But that wasn't an option now. Despite the fact that she had lost her orientation completely, she didn't have a penny with her. All she had was a soaked dress and shoes that tortured her feet. Looking back at it now, it would have been a good idea to plan this a little bit more thorough. But there was no way back now. Freezing in the streets was still preferable to the warm bed at home her father could decide to join in every moment. A shiver that had nothing to do with cold went down her spine. Come on, she thought, no need to be that dramatic, there sure is an alternative to freezing. But considering the rain you have been in for hours it would be best to find it soon.  
So when she saw the shop of an undertaker an idea came to her mind. These guys didn't have much worth stealing, did they? So maybe it wasn't too hard to get in. Looking around not a single soul was to be seen in the streets. She tried the door and was quite surprised to find it unlocked. That had been even easier than she had hoped for.  
It creaked as she opened it. A look around in the dim room revealed a lot of coffins, anatomy dolls and other stuff that gave the place a rather spooky atmosphere. But at least it was dry and a little bit warmer than outside. Quickly she closed the door to keep the warmth inside. Grateful for the shelter she collapsed just where she was. Her feet burned with pain and she winced as she removed her wet shoes. A quick inspection revealed the sorry state of her feet, not at all used to walking that much. But not even the pain could distract her from her fatigue . She would probably fall asleep on the floor if she stayed there cooling down even more. After allowing herself a few more moments of rest she reluctantly got up to search for a better spot to sleep. As exhausted as she was even the coffins seemed like a nice bed to her. So she aimed for the nearest one while yawning and removed the lid only to find someone already in there. It was a tall pale guy with beautiful long grey hair and a scar across his face.  
"Oh, sorry. I'll sleep in another one I guess..." she mumbled sleepily. "Rest in peace and all that" with that she reached for the lid to close it again. But spidery fingers stopped her. She jumped and almost screamed staring at the supposed dead guy, who started giggling.  
"Welcome young lady, hehe, what can I do for you at such a late hour?"  
"I... You... That's your shop?" she managed still in shock  
He sat up still grinning wide. "Yeah, it's wonderful, isn't it?" his gaze dreamily wandered through the room.  
"Um..." she followed his view but 'wonderful' would most definitely not been her first choice to describe the place. Eccentric, a little bit scary, cramped - yes, but wonderful?  
"Well, you seemed so like it well enough to consider sleeping in one of my handmade coffins, hehe, didn't you?" he seemed a bit disappointed that she didn't share his enthusiasm about the place.  
Meanwhile, she was still struggling to regain her composure while she couldn't stop staring at that weird man who had looked dead a few moments ago.  
Maybe it would be best flee out in the night again since she was a caught intruder, she thought, or was she? The door had been open, though.  
Despite that running through her mind her feet were rooted to the ground and her eyes were still glued to the face with that permanent grin and grey strands in front of the eyes.  
"Mph, you're almost as communicative as most of my guests sleeping in the coffins... hehe and you almost stare like them too" he teased her.  
"I... I'm sorry. You... I thought you were dead and now you..."  
"Are alive? Yeah, sorry for that, dear. I was merely asleep. Anyway, what brought you here?"  
"I was looking for shelter... 'cause, well, you know... it rains." she waved a hand at the door "Um, and I saw your shop."  
"So you thought why not try breaking in and sleep in one of my beautiful coffins?"  
"I didn't break in, Sir! The door was open. I didn't mean to... um, cause any harm or something" she rambled looking at him with pleading eyes.  
"You look like a child caught stealing a cookie. Hehe. But it seems you didn't have anything bad in mind with my lovely coffins. Sleeping in them is what they are made for, isn't it?" he softly caressed the wood "And I'm quite sure their future inhabitants won't kick up a fuss because someone else was sleeping in there before them"  
"So you won't either?" hope and relief filled her voice  
"No, it's okay. But it's been quite a while since last I had a lady staying over. Still, as far as I remember you don't share a coffin with her right away"  
"No," she giggled "sharing one of those usually only comes after a more or less unhappy marriage and bringing up some spoilt children."  
Their shared laughter filled the room.  
"You're right. It's supposed to be the only place they will ever share without arguing"  
"Also this particular one might be a little too small for two people to fit in"  
He looked at the mentioned box and mused "Yeah, it's quite cosy alone but it wouldn't be all that comfortable for two, I guess. So, sorry, that one is mine" he said gesturing towards the box he just got out of.  
"Besides I guess it wouldn’t be decent for a young lady to get that close with a stranger. One might think I took advantage of you coming in my shop searching for shelter." His grin got a bit wolfish with that. She froze realizing that this tall freaky guy was perfectly capable of doing so and also was standing between her and the door. Did she escape the hold of such an indecent fool only to stumble into another? An unease settled in her stomach.  
"You know, people might talk"  
She held his gaze to cover her anxiety. She knew that power play of who looks away first far too well. He tilted his head with a questioning smile, looking like the embodiment of harmlessness. So, I'm actually having a staring contest with a curtain of hair not even knowing it is a staring contest. She giggled at that self-note.  
"Well, people do little else" she said nonchalantly.  
Which earned her a loud laughter.  
"You're right, young lady. Hehe."  
She still was in her dripping clothes shaking with cold and her stomach growled reminding her that lunch had been quite a while ago too.  
"Oh dear, I'm a terrible host. You need a hot tea to warm you up, and also some cookies, come along." his whole manner changed from playfully fretting to caring. He quickly disappeared to the back signing her to follow him. She entered a small kitchen just as cramped as the room she had been in before but a little bit untidier. He gestured at a tiny table with two chairs "Please, have a seat. I'll find the cookies in a minute..."  
Seeing him rummaging through the shelves, eager to find her some cookies the unease she had felt finally melted away. She obeyed sitting down and watched the man for a while. She had to admit this freaky guy even was quite likeable with his permanent grin.  
"Ah ha!" He exclaimed in victory presenting an urn as if it was the holy grail.  
Once opened he placed it in front of her and took one bone-shaped cookie for himself.  
She burst up in laughter, leaving him to stare at her in surprise. The cookie sticking between his lips looked like an odd tongue poked out, which caused her to laugh even more.  
"You... You really are a strange guy, aren't you?" she managed. Her laughter slowly resolved into giggles.  
"Is that so?" he grinned and turned to prepare the tea.  
"Sleeping in a coffin, eating bone-cookies out of an urn... Yes, I think that can be considered as strange" She smirked and helped herself with one of those cookies. With his back facing her he retorted "As far as I recall you wanted to sleep in my beautiful oak coffin, too and you are eating one of my 'bone-cookies' right now..." she could hear the big grin in his voice and began to giggle once more.  
"Well, I might be a strange lady"  
"It really seems you are" he mumbled so she wondered whether he was speaking to her or himself. She lent back in her chair nibbling on her cookie. Good luck didn't even begin to describe what she had had stumbling into this dusty shop. Instead of freezing in the streets she was sitting in a warm kitchen and a weird man was cooking tea for her. It really was odd, how safe she felt in this chaotic dim kitchen. She felt the sleepiness she had forgotten about since the supposed dead man woke up slowly getting back and forcing her eyes shut.  
"My Lady? Your tea is getting cold" a soft voice brought her back into the messy room.  
She blinked rapidly trying to fight off the slumber. At the other end of the table her host was holding a measuring cup with tea in it in his slim fingers. That guy really has to do everything a little different, she thought smiling. She noticed a similar cup steaming right in front of her and with a drowsy "Thank you" she took a sip. It was perfect, warm and delicious. She could easily imagine him precisely weighting the amount of tea leafs needed for exactly one cup of freshly boiled water as if it would explode should there be even the slightest deviation.  
"You're welcome" he smiled almost fondly "But you really shouldn’t trust any 'strange guy' offering you some cookies in a urn enough to fall asleep on his table. Even though you look lovely when you sleep." he tilted his head keeping the smile on his lips.  
"It doesn't seem a mistake I trusted you with it. I even got tea as a reward" she returned the smile warming her fingers with the cup.  
"hehe, I can't argue that, can I? Anyway, you're still soaked as soon as you drank your tea we should put you in dry clothes and asleep. You really must be exhausted to drowse off so easily."  
A giggle grew in her throat "You sound like my grandma. 'Child, you gonna catch a cold, here take this on and come to the kitchen I have a cocoa for you'"  
Her giggle stopped abruptly as she remembered her beloved grandmother had died years ago at the same burglary as her mother. She stared in her cup, missing the laughter of the old woman even though she already couldn't quite recall it.  
"Oh dear, don't think about that."  
"How do you want to know what I am thinking?" she snapped, surprised how easily she had got angry.  
"I only saw your face clouding. And I have to admit a gloomy face doesn't suit you at all"  
She looked up at his encouraging smile and tried an apologetic one herself.  
"You're right I suppose. So do you have any spare clothes I could borrow in order to get dry again?"  
"A recent guest had about your size. She wore a nightshirt when she came in. It might fit."  
It seemed a bit indecent to her to wear a nightshirt, when a man was around. "Or would you like to sleep in another uncomfortable dress?" She was sure he arched an eyebrow below that grey curtain of hair.  
"A recent guest...?" considering he was an undertaker, she had a unsettling idea what this might mean. Could he actually offer her the clothes someone died in?  
"Well, it sure is better than catching a cold in that lovely but wet dress of yours"  
Looking at it practically he was of course right. And since getting ill was not what she was looking for she decided to at least take a look at her options. So she downed the rest of her tea.  
"Then let's have a look at that nightshirt"  
"As you wish, my lady"  
It was a plain, white shirt and had a decent length. She leaned closer to smell it but the only scent lingering was of being freshly washed. So she took it out of the black clawed hands holding it out to her looking for a place to take it on.  
"You can change in the bathroom over here, but first let me have a look whether it's in a shape to be used by a lady"  
He disappeared in the direction he had gestured at and started to frantically shove things around.  
"Don't make a fuss. I'm not the queen!" she tried to calm him down.  
A short laughter left the bathroom "Well, I definitely wouldn’t let her stay over... Mph, I guess it won't get much better than this" He stepped out to let her in.  
"Thank you"  
The room was small but quite tidy considering the state the kitchen was in. He closed the door behind her and she began undressing, which was quite a difficult task to tackle alone. Back at home she had Hannah who helped her getting in and out of her clothes, but she did not want to ask her host to act as her dresser. So she tried her best to get it done without any help. As she had successfully gotten rid of her dress after what had seemed an eternity she realized her corset was going to be even more of a problem. As hard as she tried to get it off on her own, it just didn't work. There was no way out of it. Cursing under her breath she took the nightshirt and held it to her front to be kind of covert. Like that she hesitantly took a step out of the bathroom. The noises from the kitchen suggested he was in there cleaning up.  
"Um... Sorry, mister?"  
"Just one moment, young lady"  
A few seconds later he appeared out of the kitchen and giggled at her sight.  
"Well, that's not how you wear a nightshirt"  
She tried to act sulky at the remark but giggled.  
"I know, but I can't get out of my corset alone. Would you please help me?"  
"Oh, that's the problem. They're quite tricky, aren't they? So, well, turn around"  
"Could you... um, close your eyes first? Please?"  
"Yes, I consider that would be the only decent solution. I'll try my best to help you blindly"  
He slid aside the grey strands, so she could see his shut eyes. The scar went straight across his left eye and she wondered which colour it had and why he hid it. But instead of asking she took his hand and guided him to her back. He fumbled around until he found the bow knot, slipped it open and began clumsily but gently loosening the strings crossing her back.  
"Thank you" She said as it was loose enough for her to get out and went towards the bathroom again.  
"You're welcome. I do not often get the chance to undress the living ones, you know?" The wolfish grin appeared on his lips once more and she closed the bathroom door shaking her head.  
Moments later she came out of the bathroom wearing the nightshirt. The man stood exactly where she had left him.  
"May I open my eyes again, young lady?"  
She laughed "Yes, of course. I thought it was fairly obvious, as I wasn't even in the same room any more"  
"Well, it's rather hard to be sure about that, when one can't see" he grinned "So let's find you a place to sleep then, shall we?" With that he left for the show room, where she had first entered. "Since I have no guest room, you'll have to sleep here in one of these" he waved at the coffins excluding the one she had found him in. So she crawled into one of them and was quite surprised how comfortable it was.  
"Thank you very much for your hostility. I am sorry to have caused you so much trouble"  
"You're most welcome. It's nice to have living guests from time to time."  
The light went out and she heard him getting into his coffin shifting around until he was comfortable.  
Now here she was, lying in a coffin in the show room of an undertaker wearing a dead woman's nightshirt with the owner of said shop laying in another one, what a truly strange day it had been.  
"Good night, mister"  
"Good night, young lady"


	2. Chapter 2

She woke up to the undertaker sliding the lid of her coffin shut as he raised his index finger to his lips. A moment later the door opened and someone came in.  
"Hello...?" a small voice filled the room hesitantly  
"Good morning, dear" the voice she knew from the last evening answered softly  
"You... um... My mummy won't stand up."  
"Hmm, I see. And you think she's dead?"  
"She's cold and stiff, mister. Uncle Travis said if I ever find mummy cold and stiff I should talk to an undertaker... He even showed me your shop" the boy explained  
"Coming to me for help was just right. What's your name, brave boy?"  
"I am William Macky" the small one answered proudly  
"Now, would you like a cookie before you introduce me to your mummy, William?"  
"Yes, please mister undertaker"  
"Well, then please follow me to the kitchen"  
She heard them walking into the kitchen and dozed off again.  
Shortly after the lid was slid open again.  
"Good morning, young lady. How was your night?" he greeted her with a measuring cup of fresh tea.  
She accepted it and took a sip before she answered.  
"Better than I had expected, actually. And what about you?"  
"Nice to hear that. I got a good rest, too. Unfortunately, I have to be off in a moment, but feel free to use everything you need, dear. Do you need help with your corset again before I leave?" he grinned.  
"I didn't plan to make you my dresser. You know, people might talk" she smiled over her cup.  
"I believe they do little else" he chuckled "and you don't want to stay in that nightshirt all day either, do you?"  
"I would really like to find another solution... Didn't you mention another dress yesterday? Does it need a corset?"  
He pouted. "No, I guess it doesn't, but it might not fit"  
"Oh come on, a gloomy face doesn’t suit you at all either" she smirked  
"You really are a daring lady, breaking into my shop and now demanding dresses from me. Almost like a wife"  
"Well, I could help you with something in exchange while you are gone. Cleaning, cooking... something wife-like, you know?" she chuckled "And of course you can have my dress in exchange too, I suppose I don't have use for clothes I can't put on by myself any more"  
He looked around in the room "Well, I do not wear dresses myself, but I guess my shop really could use a little bit of a dusting. Still, you are my guest, so you don't have to do anything. You already paid me enough" he said with a smirk, but before she could ask what he meant with that, he already was on his way out.  
"See you soon, young lady" he tipped his hat as he stood in the door.  
"Goodbye mister"  
A moment later she sat alone in her coffin drinking the tea. Her thoughts started wandering. She had left everything she knew behind, the future now lying in front of her like a blank sheet of paper. And she had no idea how to fill it. First of all, she needed a home. Even though she had a nice host, she couldn't bet on his prolonged hospitality. But if she could find a way to make herself useful, it would improve the odds. So how could she help?  
Well, greeting potential customers in a nightshirt sitting in a coffin sure is not the best way, she thought. So she slid out of the box and went to the kitchen, where she clumsily cleaned her emptied cup. Housework wasn't something she was used to at all, so cleaning up for him or even cooking had been quite a bluff.  
In search of something to put on she headed for the chamber the man had gotten the nightshirt from.  
The room was a mess. It looked like a mix of the laboratory of a mad scientist and a carpentry. It probably contained everything the madman didn't want to display in the showroom. On the walls, shelves stood side by side filled with either organs in jars, wood or some kind of equipment. In the middle of the room was a table with an unfinished coffin on it. The wooden frame was complete but it was still empty. A few different kinds of fabric lay next to it. Between two shelves stood a huge black coffin upright. She couldn't imagine a human large enough to need it, so maybe it had been a mistake, damned to rot in a back room. Quickly she searched the room for clothes, but it was hard to detect anything in the chaos. After a while, she found a chest where all the clothes of his former 'guests' seemed to be in. When she saw the dress that didn't need a corset, she knew why he said it might not fit. It almost looked as if it had belonged to a child. In the end she chose a pair of brown trousers and a white shirt. When she closed the door behind her, she was relieved to finally escape the view of those eyeballs.  
Proud of the first time she had dressed herself without any help, she decided to treat herself with a cookie since she hadn't had breakfast yet. Rummaging through the kitchen shelves she heard a noise from the showroom, so she poked her head in. It was a middle-aged woman, dressed all black.  
"Good day, my lady. How can I help you?" she tried to sound professional  
"Where is the undertaker?"  
"He's out. Do you wish to wait for him?"  
"Yes, I can't go home while my Edgar still lies there." tears began to well in her eyes  
"Oh dear, was he your husband?"  
"Yes" she sobbed "found him this morning."  
"At least he didn't have to suffer. Passing away in the sleep is painless" she tried to comfort the broken woman.  
"He really looked peaceful, my lovely Edgar"  
"Come, have seat over here" she led the woman to a coffin, that had the perfect sitting hight. "Do you want some cookies?"  
"No, dear. I don't want to cause any inconveniences."  
"Oh, you don't. And my grandma always said 'Everything gets a little better with a cookie'" she smiled softly "Please let me fetch you some"  
It was only partly because of the woman that she wanted to get the cookies. She was pretty hungry by now.  
When she came back to the showroom the woman seemed completely lost in thought.  
"Did you even eat today?"  
"How could I? I pretty much lost my appetite after I found him."  
"You need to eat, please help yourself" she offered her the urn with bone-cookies  
"These are a little inappropriate" the woman frowned but she still took one.  
"Yes, I know, but they're actually quite good. The undertaker has some weird kind of humour you know."  
The widow exhaled sharply "That's one way to put it. Others say he's completely insane, but he still is the best in his profession."  
"I wouldn't say he's insane. He's a bit weird, but I guess that can be expected from someone who loves his work as an undertaker. And he has a good heart." she felt the need to defend him  
"My Edgar had a good heart too" the woman suddenly started crying again. "You know, he always wanted to help. He would have been such a good father... But we never got children. I'm all alone now" she convulsively sobbed.  
The younger woman sat down beside her and patted her shoulder. "You are never alone."  
She pulled the widow in a hug, who wetted her shoulder with tears. The girl gently stroked her back saying "If you need another hug or someone to talk to, you can always come, okay?"  
"Thank you" she blubbered out.  
They sat there a long while, the shaken woman slowly getting calmer in her arms. When the undertaker came in he smiled at the view of the pair.  
"My lady, the undertaker is here now. Do you wish to choose a coffin for Edgar with him now?"  
The woman hadn't noticed the man getting in and was quite embarrassed he had found her being comforted by the girl. Wiping away her tears she asked him  
"You are the best undertaker in town, aren't you?"  
"I don't know, but I do my best" he indicated a bow "Would you like a tea? I see my cookies already found their way to you"  
"Yes, please a good cup of tea would be nice"  
He went in the kitchen leaving the two women alone again.  
"Do you feel a little better, Mrs.?"  
"Yes, thank you. I think I needed a little comfort."  
"You're welcome."  
The black dressed woman smiled. A little later the man came back with three measuring cups of tea. The widow looked at the cups and than at the younger woman in confusion.  
"Like I said, a weird kind of humour." the latter said with a shrug and took one of the cups.  
The undertaker made a face, but the widow smiled as she helped herself with a cup too.  
"I forgot I didn't even ask your name. What is it, young lady?"  
"I'm Martha Baker" she lied "And you are?"  
"Pleased to meet you Mrs. Baker, I'm Scarlett Briston and I assume you are Mr. Baker?" she asked the man with the strange black hat.  
He chuckled while Martha looked embarrassed "No, I do not have the pleasure to be married to Ms. Baker. People simply refer to me as 'Undertaker', my lady"  
"Oh, sorry. I assumed you were married, but you should consider it. She seems to have a good heart and says the same about you." she winked clearly getting in a better mood  
"Is that so?" a smile played on his lips as he looked at Martha who wished she could vanish.  
"Anyway, did you come here to gossip about me with Ms. Baker, or is there anything you want my help with?"  
Mrs. Briston's cheerfulness broke away. "My beloved Edgar died in his sleep. I found him this morning." she was a lot calmer than when she had come into the shop, but her eyes still watered.  
"We will prepare him a nice bed for his eternal slumber, Mrs."  
"Thank you, everyone says you make the best coffins. Some even say you'd sleep in them yourself" she smiled while Undertaker and Martha giggled."I know, some people really have a vivid imagination" she continued  
"Well, how can you be sure, they don't tell the truth?" he chuckled "My coffins really are quite comfortable, you can test it yourself"  
"No, thank you, I pass."  
"So let's choose the wood for your Edgars then"  
While the undertaker explained the benefits of different types of wood to the widow Martha collected the cups and went into the kitchen to clean them. She almost broke one in the process, but luckily the cups were quite robust. When she finally came back in the show room Undertaker looked up  
"Ah, Ms. Baker, would you like to help pick Edgar up?"  
"Yes, of course" she smiled glad for the opportunity to help.  
As they went to Mrs. Bristons house, the women had a cheery conversation about trivia, while the undertaker walked behind them in silence. He had a stretcher on his shoulder and seemed lost in thought.  
As they entered the house he ordered Martha to get Mrs. Briston a tea, while he put Edgar on the stretcher.  
The two women had just sat down, as the grey-haired man came in asking for Martha again.  
"We are ready to leave, young lady"  
So she said goodbye to Mrs. Briston and wished her well.  
"Thank you for your comfort, dear and please take good care of my Edgar, you two"  
"Of course we will" the undertaker and Martha said in unison.  
"Have you already chosen the clothes you want him to be buried in?"  
"Um... No, I haven't thought about it yet"  
"No problem, bring them in as soon as you made up your mind, Mrs."

As they walked back to the shop carrying the stretcher between them the undertaker had fallen silent again. She didn't know him too well, but he seemed as if something was bothering him.  
"Undertaker?"  
"Yes, young lady?"  
"Are you okay?"  
"Of course, young lady. Why do you ask?"  
She didn't believe him but decided not to push it either.  
"Oh, no particular reason"

They had put the corpse on the table in the back room,  
"So, 'Martha Baker', it is, hmm?" he chuckled "A nice alias"  
"Yes, thank you. By the way 'Undertaker' isn't that creative either"  
"Hmm, that's right, but pretty easy to remember, isn't it?"  
"Seems you have a lot to hide, my dear 'undertaker'"  
"Well, Ms. 'Baker', you're the one to talk"  
She laughed. "I guess you're right. Sorry, I'm just curious"  
"Oh, so am I" he smiled "It would be fun if I hosted a wanted criminal"  
"I'm sorry, I have to disappoint you. I'm just a casual runaway"  
"Oh, what a dull reason to hide one's name"  
"So you have a better one?"  
He grinned and ignored her question  
"Well, since you ran away, you don't have a place to go right?"  
A cold fist clenched her heart. If he decided to throw her out, she was completely lost.  
"Yes.." she said not even able to face him  
"Oh dear" he grabbed her chin with his black-clawed fingers and forced her to look up "You can stay here as long as you need to"  
She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holing.  
"Thank you, mister" she said and hugged her host tight. "But I can't do much to in return"  
"Oh, I think you can, young lady." he smiled down at her "You seem to have a way with people and I might have a use for that."  
"And what kind of use would that be?" she frowned  
"Well, maybe you can keep the young lady who chased me with a bedpan this morning from telling everyone I was a debaucher"  
"That will probably depend on the reason she chased you" she said laughing  
"Well..." a slight pink got on his cheeks as he continued "I mistook her for a corpse"  
"And?"  
"...and I tried to put her on the stretcher. I was rather petrified as the supposed dead woman started screaming."  
she laughed till tears ran down her cheeks "I know that feeling when a supposed corpse suddenly starts talking. The one I encountered lay in a coffin though" she smirked  
"Yes... and as far as I recall he didn't yell at you and throw you out. The worst thing was she didn't stop calling for her mother to get a frying pan!"  
"That's kind of morbid. The poor girl will have had the worst morning in her life. First, a scary guy wakes her up trying to kidnap her and when she calls her mother for help, she has to learn she's dead."  
"Well, it isn't nice to be chased with a bedpan either" he pouted  
"Oh, poor you! She didn't hit you with the bedpan or anything in it, did she?"  
"Fortunately she missed..." he said rubbing his neck. "Anyway, I already have a reputation as a lunatic, I don't want to have one as a debaucher, too"  
"Yes, that would really be too much" she giggled "I'll talk to her and see what I can do. I hope I won't get chased with that infamous bedpan, too"  
"Thank you. I wish you the best of luck"


End file.
